


'Til the Stars Burn Blue

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Wedge is – and this isn’t Luke being uncharitable – a bit of a gossip.And something of a busybody.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 387





	1. Chapter 1

Wedge is – and this isn’t Luke being uncharitable – a bit of a gossip. 

And something of a busybody.

Like, oh, sure. He’s also one hell of a pilot and one of the best people Luke flew with in the war, but he’s also a bit of a gossip and busybody. One who is well acquainted with Luke’s inner circle, who, by the by, are also gossips and busybodies and the worst, really, the absolute worst.

So naturally when he runs across a...situation while off in the Outer Rim on New Republic business, the first person he thinks to tell is Luke. Nothing serious, Wedge assures him, but something Luke might be interested in checking out for himself if he’s got the time.

“Really?” Luke asks, because that’s a lie if he’s ever heard one, but part of him appreciates that Wedge made some kind of effort with it. “I’m the first person you told.”

Wedge smiles, the one that’s all New Republic hotshot pilot poster boy with perfect white teeth and flight-suit ready to do his part. He learned it from Luke, back when Luke was the hotshot pilot poster boy for the Rebel Alliance.

“Oh, of course you were,” Wedge says, like the chain of command doesn’t exist and Wedge isn’t embroiled in some delicate tangle of top-level security clearance nightmare every other day while Luke bumbles about in his X-wing and no longer supposed to be in the know about certain things. “No one else I’d call.”

“Uh-huh,” Luke says, but there’s a smile fighting to break free behind the scowl he’s got on his face. “Of course.”

========

It takes Luke a few days to get out there because he as a passenger with him and can’t just make the trip on one shot.

When he gets there, some New Republic outpost orbiting an old mining planet, Wedge is long gone.

Left a note, though, with the X-wing pilots who greet him. Trapper Wolf and Carson Teva, who seem like fine people if taking a little too much enjoyment over the everything going on here.

It might be the Force, or just Luke’s own personal experience in these matters, but - 

“Not your first run-in with him?” 

Trapper nods, ducking his head to hide his smile like it’s unbecoming or something. Maybe he just doesn’t want to laugh in Luke’s face, what with Luke being a figure of note to the New Republic and all.

Carson...sighs. 

Sounds a lot like Leia when Luke drags Han back after a night of roaming Coruscant in search of...what, Luke’s not sure, just that it involves dive bars and games of Sabacc and on a few memorable occasions bounty hunters looking to collect on both their heads, so. 

“You could say that,” Carson says, and turns to look through the one-way glass into the interrogation room where a noticeably unhappy Mandalorian is sitting.

Tired slump to his shoulders and the binders that should be attached to the table in front of him are not.

Luke glances at Carson, and gets a shrug in response.

“Protocol,” he says, referring to the binders, and nothing else to explain why no one’s seen fit to make sure the Mandalorian in their custody is still wearing them, or why they allowed him to take them off in the first place. 

Luke hums, and in the little carrier on his back, Grogu matches it with his own.

========

Din doesn’t look up when Luke walks into the interrogation room. Doesn’t look up when the door slides shut behind him, lock activating with a little clunk. Doesn’t look up when Luke crosses to the table and pulls the chair across from him out.

The man doesn’t look up until after Luke sets Grogu down on the table and the soft patter of Grogu’s feet as he toddles over to Din registers.

Even then he doesn’t look up at Luke, no. He’s staring at Grogu who’s looking up at _him_ , and from the sheer joy and happiness radiating off Grogu’s sense in the Force, he can only be smiling at him. That sweetly happy one of his, simple and all the more devastating for it.

Din is frozen in his seat, hands that instinctively reached for Grogu the moment he realized he was there just short of touching him.

“You know,” Luke says, deciding to put Din out of his misery. “I don’t usually get calls in the middle of the night to bail someone out of jail.”

That honor normally belongs to Leia.

Din twitches, but he still doesn’t look up.

Says, though, with a note of annoyance in his voice as though Luke had anything to do with this, “I wasn’t _arrested_.”

Therefore no jail cell, therefore no bail needing to be posted?

“No," Luke says, and feels a little guilty because the truth is that he maybe, kind of, sort of does have a part to play in this. “They just detained you.”

Because Din and his questionable choices both in life, and work-related. Also his insistence on pre-Imperial ships and transponders not broadcasting the proper information. Why, Luke wonders, why the man doesn’t shell out a few credits for false transponder codes to avoid awkward situations like this is beyond him.

Not that Luke’s supposed to know about things like that, what with him being a figure of note to the New Republic and all. Upstanding citizen who happens to have a former(?) smuggler as a brother-in-law and best friend and...forget all about that.

Din looks up at that, and it doesn’t take a genius or Force sensitive to know he’s less than thrilled.

“Yes,” Din grits out, and tilts his head, so suspicious. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Luke taps his fingers on the table. 

Thinks about that one time he dragged Han back home, had maybe had a drink too many himself, and informed Leia that Din was – in Luke’s personal opinion – an idiot. One who kept gallivanting about the galaxy tracking down bounties and righting wrongs and overthrowing local warlords in between avoiding the whole...Darksaber thing.

Also, the fact that Luke had been confronted no less than five times - _five_ \- in the last few months by a group of frankly terrifying Mandalorians in blue armor demanding to know if he’d trained their Mand’alor in its use while bumbling about in his X-wing looking for Jedi relics and such.

“...Maybe,” Luke says, and stills his fingers when Din’s attention snaps to the nervous movement. “It’s possible I might have said some...things to my sister.”

Who, it should be said, is a force of nature few can hope to match, or stand up to.

One who adored Grogu while lamenting the fact he had an old crone for a teacher, as though she isn’t Luke’s own twin, and felt his father could stand to visit his son in person more often. 

While Luke didn’t disagree with her on that last bit, it wasn’t as though Din was wholly absent from Grogu’s life now. 

He visited as often as he could, called to speak to Grogu once a week if he wasn’t being eaten whole by a krayt dragon on some desert world or other such things. Sent gifts, things that reminded him of Grogu, or Luke when he came across them.

Din was still very much part of Grogu’s life, he just.

Well.

Did it in a very Din sort of way, like he wasn’t sure of himself in that regard anymore, didn’t know what to do with Luke as Grogu’s teacher, and honestly, it would be enough to break anyone’s heart.

But back to Leia and the terrifying amount of power she wields that most people don’t seem to realize she has.

(She’d laughed, the one time Luke asked her about it, and patted him on the cheek with a fond smile. “That’s exactly what I want,” she’d said, and Luke had swiftly changed the subject out of fear for his mortal soul.)

Leia, who knows Luke has been trying to find a way to pin Din down and have a chat with him about the Mandalorians on Luke’s case about Din getting proper training with the Darksaber. 

He regrets telling her that part, not only for the fact it apparently resulted in...this, but also the glint in her eye Leia had gotten when Luke mentioned the Darksaber and why Din being in possession of it was such a big deal.

There was musing on Leia’s part regarding forging an alliance with the new Mand’alor and something about arranged marriages? Luke had jumped out a window at that point, Artoo waiting outside with a speeder in case Luke needed to make a quick exit.

So.

Back to the matter at hand.

“I’ve been informed,” Luke says, although he is very much making this up as he goes, “that you’ll be released without further incident if you agree to certain terms.”

Din regards Luke for a long moment, no doubt sensing his words for the utter nonsense they are. And then he turns his head to look at the window set in the wall.

Luke clears his throat, ripples of Trapper and Carson’s amusement brushing up against him through the Force.

“Is that so?” Din asks, turning back to look at Luke, modulator giving his voice a flat effect. “And what might those terms be?”

========

There’s an awkward moment where Trapper and Carson bring up the matter of the binders Din’s meant to be wearing, this look that passes between the four of them and Luke being handed said binders.

Protocol or some such, Luke’s not really paying attention.

“Uh,” Luke says, doing his best to shove down thoughts he really shouldn’t be having at the moment, “I think we’ll be fine without them.”

And, as Din pointed out earlier, he was never arrested, and anyway, _awkward_.

Especially with the contemplative angle of Din’s head as Luke fumbles the binders back into Trapper's hands. The soft little _hm_ of his, followed by a quiet laugh that Luke is certain isn’t Din laughing with Luke so much as Din laughing _at_ Luke.

_Anyway._

========

“I don’t need training,” Din insists, once they’re back on Yavin 4. “I’m a Mandalorian - “

“And ‘weapons are your religion’, yes, I know,” Luke says, sharing a look with a giggling Grogu.

He’s heard several variations on that from Din himself and the ones who seem to be stalking Luke in order to make sure Din is properly trained when it comes to the Darksaber.

Luke’s seen Din fight. He knows how skilled, competent he is. How clever and resourceful he can be as well, utilizing whatever is on hand and able to turn the most unexpected objects into deadly weapons.

Still.

There’s a difference between a sword with a metal blade and a lightsaber. One that Din could learn to adjust to on his own given time, but Bo-Katan and her associates had been insistent Din be given training.

And to be honest, Luke is much of the same mind, seeing as he’s somewhat fond of this surprisingly stubborn man.

“Prove it,” Luke says, igniting his lightsaber. “And we won’t have to do this.”

========

Luke regrets so much, because Din and sparring and being pinned to hard surfaces, blade of the Darksaber humming cold and menacing at Luke’s throat and yet that’s not his main concern, no.

Din snorts, lowering the Darksaber before deactivating it, smug radiating off him in such a fashion that is in no way attractive.

“Nice job,” Luke wheezes, because Din and that armor of his and Luke’s kidneys will never forgive him for this he’s one hundred percent certain. 

Din tenses – such a suspicious man – and a moment later goes flying across the room, because they’re not done here.

Din’s an excellent fighter, yes. Has experience to back up his training, _but_.

Lightsabers are something of Luke’s specialty, even one as unusual as the Darksaber and he’s not about to let Din go gallivanting about without making sure he’s as safe as he can be.

So.

“Again,” Luke says with a flourish of his lightsaber, just because.

========

“Are you this...relentless when you’re training Grogu?” Din asks, and Luke feels gratified at the faint wheeze to it. 

Luke lifts his head where it’s resting on the training room mats along with the rest of him.

Exhausted after their latest sparring match got a little out of hand. The only good news, if there’s any to be had, is that Din seems just as tired.

Leaning against the storage container that holds training equipment and odds and ends Luke hasn’t really found a place for just yet.

“Of course not,” he says, mustering up just enough energy to sound as appalled as he feels. “Grogu’s a _child_.”

One who is endlessly mischievous and stubborn and clever, and has clearly picked up his father’s habits, yes, but still a child.

Din huffs, “Good to know,” he says, warmth bleeding through, and then, hesitantly, “Grogu likes it here.”

Luke stares up at the ceiling and listens to the sound of Grogu tapping his claws against Din’s armor just to hear the sound of it. 

Thinks about Grogu, the things he’s shared with Luke both good and bad through the bond they’ve created since Luke began teaching him. Fifty years of life, and still so young.

He thinks about Din and all the memories Grogu has of him, how he features so prominently in Grogu’s thoughts. A sight, a sound, anything that calls up his impression of Din, his father, and how much Grogu wants to share this new thing with him, because of course he’d want to see, never a doubt in his mind about that.

“Ah,” Luke says, and has to swallow past the knot of emotion in his throat. “I’m glad to hear that.”

========

“You’re always welcome here,” Luke says, the way he has in the past when Din leaves. “You know that, don’t you?”

And just like he always says, Din goes, “I know.”

Luke’s never thought Din actually believed it before, though. Rote response, something he’s expected to say out of deference to manners and politeness and so on.

This time, however - 

Din’s watching Luke, and there’s that warmth to his voice again, sneaking past the helmet’s modulator. 

“I just have some...things to take care of first,” Din says, gesturing to the Darksaber clipped to his belt. 

Luke raises an eyebrow at that, feels himself smile because Din makes it sound as though he’s stepping out to handle a quick little errand rather than assume his duties as the King of Mandalore.

“Of course,” Luke says.

========

The press of Din’s helmet against Luke’s forehead is cool, unfamiliar. His hand on the back of Luke’s neck is warm, grounding.

“I’ll be back,” Din says, low and fierce, daring anyone to keep him away. “I promise you that.”

========

Leia calls a few months later, odd little smile on her face as she folds her hands in front of herself and leans in.

“Luke,” she says, all bright cheer and inherent threat that sends a chill down Luke’s spine. “I need a favor.”

========

“You know,” Luke says, watching Grogu chase after one of the insects that come out during dusk. “This isn’t what I expected when you said you’d be back.”

Din hums under his breath, fingers of the hand on Luke’s waist flexing.

“Me either,” Din admits with a quiet laugh.

Beyond the clearing they’re in, Luke can just make out the gleam of armor as Din’s honor guard stand watch.

It’s.

Hm.

Strange, is a good word. 

Bizarre is another.

Typical, Luke knows Han would say, wry smile and rolled eyes and this underlying fondness for a pair of twins who happened to drag him into a life he hadn’t expected.

Because Din and the Darksaber he carries and all the weight, responsibilities it brings, and the kind of man he is even if he doesn’t realize it.

Also, Leia.

Force of nature as well as bit of a gossip and busybody and meddler of the highest degree. Something about making a good impression with the ruler of a world the New Republic hoped to form an alliance with, welcome to its ranks. 

And oh, by the way, what were Luke’s feelings on political marriage?

“So,” Luke says, tipping his head to look up at Din. Feels himself smiling again. “King of Mandalore, hm? How does this courting thing work, exactly?”

Din sighs, but the hand on Luke’s waist pulls him closer, and the soft, “You’re impossible, you know that, don’t you?” is entirely fond, something Luke doubts he’ll ever get tired of hearing.


	2. Chapter 2

Far be it from Luke to question anyone’s cultural traditions, but he’s starting to get the feeling Din hasn’t been completely honest about Mandalorian courtship.

“You know,” Luke wheezes, “something about this just doesn’t seem right.”

Din retrieves his spear from where it landed after Luke used a combination of the Force and a move Obi-Wan taught him to disarm him.

He says nothing as he examines the spear for signs of damage, though when he turns to look at Luke there’s. 

Something smug, mocking, in the angle of his head.

That, and he _prowls_ back to where Luke’s standing. Sleek, dangerous. Confident.

Perhaps too much so, Luke thinks when he stops before Luke to regard him.

“Oh?” he says, Luke’s eyes narrowing at his tone. “What makes you say that?”

Luke’s about to answer Din, really he is, but then the absolute cheat uses the butt of his spear to sweep Luke’s legs out from under him.

After that it’s an undignified wrestling match between them for the winner to end up and top, and anyway, anyway.

Luke’s fairly certain you’re not supposed to rabbit punch your fiance in the kidneys in order to squeak out a victory but he does so anyway because he’s not going to let Din be smug at him for the rest of the day.

========

“Well,” Leia says, and pauses to point at her eye as a reminder to Luke to put the cold compress back over his. “Mandalorians are known for their fighting prowess.”

She’s laughing at him.

Luke’s own twin is laughing at him.

That’s...not unprecedented, but he’d hoped for some faint sliver of sympathy. Apparently he was wrong about that.

“You really were, yes,” Leia agrees, and laughs.

========

Din introduces Luke to someone he clearly holds in high regard. A Mandalorian wearing a gold helmet with a fur coat he calls the Armorer. When she speaks there’s a weight to her words that reminds him of Mon Mothma.

And then Din introduces Luke to Paz.

Or perhaps it would be better to say that Paz happens _to_ Din and Luke just happens to be there at the time.

Paz walks into the Armorer's forge on Mandalore while Din is introducing Luke to her. He gives the Armorer a respectful nod of his head in greeting. Passes Luke over in what Luke recognizes all too well as a deliberate snub, and pauses on Din.

Luke sees the way his helmet dips, just enough to see the Darksaber clipped to Din’s belt, and then - 

“Jedi,” the Armorer says, and gestures for Luke to take a step away from Din. “If you would.”

Luke glances at Din and the soft, _dank farrik_ , before he steps away from Luke. Towards Paz who growls, and then charges Din, the two of them going down in a tangle of limbs and swearing and clamor of armor.

“Um,” Luke says, watching the brawl taking place before him. “Should we - “

The Armorer sighs.

“No,” she says, as though two fully grown men aren’t rolling around on the ground tossing insults and occasionally fists at one another only a few feet away. “There are other things I wish to discuss with you.”

Luke watches Din and Paz for a moment longer, but it seems the worst they’re likely to do is break their own hands against the other’s armor with the way they’re doing at it right now.

“I would be glad to,” he says, and honestly means it. The rare times Din talked about his covert, about the Armorer were always with respect, admiration. 

The Armorer tilts her head in a way that Luke recognizes as amusement from Din. He hopes the same holds true for the Armorer.

========

Luke’s watching Din introduce Grogu to a par of massif pups a man named Cobb Vanth brought as gifts – tributes – to the new Mand’alor on learning news the news of his upcoming marriage, when Boba Fett sits down beside him.

It feels, Luke thinks, as if they should being a more dramatic setting than a private courtyard in the Mand’alor’s main residence with only a few people around to witness it. 

“Jedi,” Fett says.

“Fett,” Luke says.

It’s cool out, windy. Leaves skitter along the ground. The massif pups bark, too young to know many commands yet but they sit readily enough when Din tells them, tongues lolling out of their mouths.

Fett says a number, words almost stolen by the wind. There are a lot of zeros in it.

When he gets up, he leaves behind a small silver disc Luke’s distressingly familiar with. He knows whose face will appear when he turns it on, he just isn’t sure if it’s a warning, or a gift.

========

“Funny,” Leia says, “someone sent Han one of his bounty pucks too. I guess now we know who it was.”

Luke should be more concerned, he knows, but then he thinks of Din greeting Boba Fett like he was someone to be trusted.

He also thinks of Boba Fett’s companions. 

A known assassin and the marshal of a town on Tatooine not found on any map.

The first isn’t much of a surprise, the second - 

“Din has the strangest friends,” Luke tells Leia. Former princess, leader in the Rebel Alliance, and now senator in the New Republic among other things. 

Luke thinks he can hear her husband, former(?) smuggler and current trophy husband arguing with a wookiee and a long-time friend of Hans with an affinity for capes about something in the background.

“Hm, yes,” she agrees, “the strangest.”

========

Paz is...strange.

Menacing, in that he always seems to be lurking nearby. And looming. Scowling too, although that one’s more of a gut feeling. There’s no overt threat or feeling of hostility from him he can sense through the Force, just. The everything he’s doing.

And then - 

“Oh, hello,” Luke says, as Paz invites himself to sit down across from Luke and the cup of caf he’s having to shake his brain into place.

It’s early, Luke was up late. He’s not nineteen anymore, or twenty, or – he’s just getting old. Luke is getting old and mornings aren’t as kind to him as they used to be, and anyway. Caf helps.

Paz grunts, head cocked as he studies Luke.

Luke wraps his hands around his mug, hopes he remembered to at least comb his hair before leaving his and Din’s rooms this morning.

“Jedi.”

It’s hard to tell from his tone if Paz is commenting on the fact Luke is one, or if it’s meant as a greeting, so Luke _hms_ , hoping it covers both well enough Paz won’t be offended.

There’s silence after that, and while not exactly comfortable it’s not uncomfortable either. 

Suddenly Paz leans forward. “Who did that?” he asks, demands, and when Luke seems confused gestures at his face, his eye.

Luke frowns, the movement pulling at his own face, the black eye that’s slowly healing, and realization dawns on him.

“Oh,” he says, unsure how to explain. “It’s, uh. Nothing, really.”

Paz leans closer.

“Do I need to talk to someone about it?” he asks, and the menacing thing he’s been doing is all there in his voice, promise of violence on Luke’s behalf for some reason Luke doesn’t understand.

Except he does, really.

Din hadn’t known much about it, no reason to, but the Armorer had known. Spoken to Luke while Din and Paz fought like a pair of overgrown children.

Luke supposes there are Mandalorians who don’t like the idea of their new Mand’alor taking a Jedi as his husband, but strangely enough, Luke hasn’t met any yet.

So strange, honestly. He’d almost think there was a reason. A shiny, shiny reason with a tiny green gremlin kid.

“You did,” Luke says, because the caf hasn’t kicked in yet, and he’s an idiot with or without it, and anyway. 

Paz goes still in the way Din does before he does something exceptionally violent.

Luke almost misses that, but thankfully the Force is more awake than he is and essentially slaps him in the face with the fact Paz is suddenly very, very angry despite the fact they don’t know one antoher at all, and he’s not fond of Jedi, to put it mildly.

“Wait, no!” Luke says, not stupid enough to touch Paz as he surges to his feet, but the urgency in his voice stops him in place. “It, uh. Isn’t what you think.”

Paz cocks his head, waiting for Luke to speak.

Which he does.

“...we were wrestling,” Luke says, and sees Paz recoil, hears a muttered _ugh, no, why_.

It takes a moment for Luke to realize why he would, and Luke blames his fair complexion for the blushing that happens.

“Not like that!” he hisses, as if there’s anyone else around to overhear. “We were sparring, and - “

Paz holds a hand up, palm towards Luke.

“Jedi,” he says, sounding so very tired. “Was it on purpose?”

“No!” Luke says without hesitation, and it takes a moment to register the noise Paz is making as laughter, because Luke’s on his feet and scowling at the man in heavy infantry armor as if he’s about to leap over the table and fight him bare-handed. 

“Good,” Paz says, amused, as if he knew what Luke’s answer would be. “Then I don’t need to know the details. _Ever_.”

========

“I think I almost put a hit out on you,” Luke muses, watching Din watching Grogu watch the fish in the pond. “Sorry about that.”

Din sighs before he even looks at Luke, which...alight, understandable given what Luke just confessed to.

“Do I want to know?” he asks, sounding as if he really does, but doesn’t want to admit to it.

Luke considers not telling him, but he figures Din will have a better understanding of Paz and his motivations than Luke does, so he tells him.

Grogu comes racing over, pretty fish forgotten, as Din rolls off the bench and onto the ground, he’s laughing so hard. Like he’s dying with it.

Luke may or may not have helped Din off the bench at the first incredulous bark of laughter, even though they’d been having such a lovely moment.

“It’s not that funny,” Luke says, although in hindsight it kind of is.

========

“The Mand’alor,” the Armorer says, “has given these to me to craft into a gift for you.”

Luke stares at the beskar ingots the Armorer has set out on soft cloth. They're stamped with the Imperial crest.

“I - “

“He asked that I choose the form,” she says, neatly cutting him him. “Somehow, I don’t think a weapon would suit you.”

Luke can’t speak, words caught in his throat. It doesn’t seem to bother the Armorer.

“No,” she says, thoughtfully. “Not a weapon.”

Luke thinks she’s talking about the beskar, the gift she’s meant to make for him on Din’s behalf, but she’s looking at him.

========

“I thought,” Luke says, reduced to the mess nineteen Luke Skywalker was at every single moment of his life. “The whole...sparring thing?”

Din is staring at Luke.

Grogu is staring at Luke.

The massiff pups are staring at Luke.

Luke, Luke thinks, would be staring at Luke too.

“...What?”

Luke flails.

It’s not a good look on him, probably never was, but it was his go-to at one time.

“The Armorer,” he says, and flails again. “I thought - “

Well, honestly Luke doesn’t know what he thought.

Din sets Grogu down, whispers something to him that has Grogu leading the massiff pups out of the room, door sliding shut behind them.

“I may have...mislead you about the sparring,” Din says, as if that’s some sort of great secret he never expected Luke to suspect. 

There had been staring involved there too. On both their parts. Not exactly a hardship by any means.

“I hadn’t realized,” Luke says, feeling less. Everything, really. 

Din snorts, ducking his head.

Luke watches him, fondess and affection and this deeper, more enduring feeling at the core of it for this strange, awkward man. Brilliant and clever and kinder than he knows.

Ruler of an entire planet, and Luke is.

Well, Luke is Luke. 

Raised on a moisture farm on Tatooine, and then pilot in the Rebel Alliance. Last known Jedi and general human disaster.

He doesn’t really bring much to the table, although Fennec did tell him he was lucky he’s pretty when he asked if Boba Fett intended to go after Han again, just to be clear on that whole mess.

So.

“I never thought I’d be a trophy husband,” Luke says finally, because honestly, who does?

Din splutters, head coming up and Luke doesn’t need the Force to feel his disbelief, quiet horror at the smirk on Luke’s face.

“Luke,” Din says, but Luke ignores him, tapping his chin with a finger as he contemplates his future as the trophy husband to the Mand’alor. Luke should call Han, they can compare notes. Maybe schedule brunch sometime. “Luke, _please_.”

========

“Flex,” the Armorer says, and Luke does.

Watches the fingers of his right hand move, gleam of beskar under the lights of the Armorer's forge.

“Form a fist,” she says, and Luke does.

There’s an odd sensation at the back of his mind, something asking him to - 

“Oh,” he says, as that odd structure over his wrist unfolds and flares out to form a small guard that covers his wrist and hand. “That’s.”

Unexpected, he thinks, and remembers the Armorer’s words the last time he was here.

Not a weapon but a - 

“I think it suits you, Jedi,” she says, sounding pleased. 

========

In the end it’s a small ceremony. 

Din, Luke, and their closest - strangest – friends and family.

Also, someone named Bo-Katan who glares at Luke the entire time as if he can’t tell when she’s wearing her helmet.

Luke doesn’t take it personally, since she also glares at Din. And...everyone else, with the sole exception of Grogu.

Luke doesn’t remember much of it, eyes only for Din and his tiny green gremlin kid, but he remembers the important parts.

Hours spent practicing so he wouldn’t butcher the words, sweaty hand and nervous swallows and heart beating so fast in his chest, and Din’s soft laughter, just for Luke and, “Your accent is still terrible,” but it sounded like there were tears involved, not that anyone could see his with the helmet.

No, they just got to see Luke’s, along with his wobbly smile as Din pressed his forehead against Luke’s, and the biggest lie Luke’s ever said with his whispered, “I don’t know why I love you so much,” that sets Din off again, and anyway.

Luke remembers the important parts.


End file.
